


Make Blossom in Me Flowers of Fire

by anamuan



Category: The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Eldritch Blowjobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Family Angst, Humiliation, Lotus Monster, Other, Plant monster, Powerlessness, Restraints, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Unwilling Arousal, Xenophilia, no no yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamuan/pseuds/anamuan
Summary: Jiang Cheng gets in a little over his head swimming alone in a lotus field. He enjoys himself far more than he'd like.





	Make Blossom in Me Flowers of Fire

Jiang Cheng turns his back resolutely towards Lotus Pier, clothes abandoned on the bank with all his marks of station, and swims out into the dark. He slips between the stalks and the black water, the giant leaves of the lotus plants like a canopy of paper umbrellas above his head, until the lights in the windows and along the walls flicker like stars in the distance, and he feels at last, at last, with the cool water lapping at his chest and throat, that he can take a real breath. When he was younger, being Sect Leader was empowering: it was his only way to keep the ghosts of his parents at rest, rebuilding their sect, _his_ sect. After Wei Wuxian abandoned him for Yiling, and after Yanli married, he was the only one left. The only one who _could_.

For a while, it kept him busy. Sect business, and all the unrest in the cultivation world, trying to find a new balance amidst the chaos. But the sect is stable now, and affluent. The cultivation world, for now, at last, is at peace, leaving only demons and monsters and fierce corpses to subdue—all things the sect's disciples vie for the opportunity to hunt; all things beneath a Sect Leader's notice. 

Now there is only the pressure Jiang Cheng puts on himself, without parents to pressure or arrange it for him: to find a wife and get an heir. To continue the sect. And affluent and powerful as the Jiang Sect is, no one will have him, and he will have no one he's yet met. 

He swims out further into the dark, limbs drifting idly against unseen lotus stalks under the edge of the water, escaping the weight of the Sect Leader's _zan_. Slender a pin as it is, it holds all the weight of all the people who depend on him, and makes his neck ache with the tension of holding it up. He swims out far enough that all he can hear is the sound of wind through the lotuses and the lapping of the water around him. Until there is nothing but the lake, its flowers, and the moon overhead.

Jiang Cheng flips onto his back and lets himself drift, eyes barely slitted open as he moves under the shadow of the broad lotus leaves. 

When his arm brushes another lotus stalk, he thinks nothing of it. He thinks nothing of it when his ankle does as well, or when his knee knocks against a thicker stalk and makes the cupped disk above him tremble. Jiang Cheng thinks of nothing except the cool air and the way the water makes him feel weightless, and breathes in great lungfuls of air, feeling like everything that haunts him, for once, has stayed on the bank with his clothes.

His ankle becomes entangled in a clump of drifting reeds, and even then he only thinks enough to reach a hand down to untangle himself and float some more. 

Then a stalk twists around his wrist as well, drawing tight, and looping back up towards his shoulder. Jiang Cheng has a moment to feel some real alarm before all his limbs are tangled in the gently swaying fronds and stalks of the plants surrounding him, and he starts to struggle. He realizes after a few moments of pointless thrashing that all he's managed to do is entangle himself further and fill his own mouth with water, and fights down his panic to lie still on the surface of the pond. 

The plants don't fight him when he doesn't fight them, just drift against his fingers like lotus stalks in a breeze, and he finds that he floats as easily as before, mouth and nose safely above the water line. The plant stalks, for all that they are too supple and too strong, are the same temperature as the water and move gently with the lapping of the pond, and Jiang Cheng can only feel them against his skin in the way that they keep him stretched out across the water's surface like a water strider about to flit into a deeper shadow under a swaying lotus leaf. 

He's never encountered a creature like this—no doubt now in his mind that a creature it must be—but even as he stretches his senses out as far as he can, he can find no trace of malevolent energy or killing intent. It seems to mean him no harm, and perhaps is as confused about the unintentional encounter as he is. He keeps himself still, and starts circulating his qi through his body, energizing heavy limbs and increasing their strength. A breeze blows across the pond like a good omen, sending all the lotuses and leaves swaying, shivering in the air.

A small thrum of energy uncurls from Zidian on his finger in answer to his qi, an idea of escape forming in his mind, and then, he feels something drift along the inside of his thigh, lighter than the touch of a feather, and softer than silk. It skates along his skin again, this time along the top of his thigh, higher up his body, and Jiang Cheng freezes, lifting his head just enough to look down and see what it is. A nearby lotus, barely opened in the day, and curled up again against the night air, has bent over in the breeze and, just barely, brushed the tips of its petals against his leg. 

Jiang Cheng lets out a silent sigh of relief. No water-logged hands grip his skin. No drowned hair drifts across his legs. 

And then the wind stops, and the lotus on its stalk bends down again under its own power, and slowly, with what can only be described as intent, caresses his hip. He watches, dumbfounded, as the pale petals unfold just the slightest bit against the skin of his thigh, a gentle caress that makes goosebumps break out over him. It strokes him again, against the soft skin of his cock, and he tries to shy away from the intimate touch of the creature against him and only manages to send his head under the water for a moment, eyes closed against the dark. When he comes up again sputtering, a small infinity later, the lotus has closed itself tight again: around his cock. 

Zidian sparks, and then goes out as his qi starts to seep away to pool lower, at the base of his spine, between his hips. He can feel the soft way the lotus petals stroke his sensitive skin and can't help the way his cock reacts to it. The petals aren't warm, and they grip him delicately, as though too tight a hold would bruise them, but they flutter over him continuously, like leaves moving in the wind, and the stimulation is enough to make his cock slowly harden against his will. Something like humiliation uncurls in Jiang Cheng's chest as he tests his strength against the stalks holding him—cock swelling—and he cannot win himself free. He could call out for help, but he'd rather drown than let any of his sect's disciples find him like this.

The lotus moves without the wind, taking his cock deeper and then pulling back so he slips out a little again, as though it were fucking around him. Jiang Cheng feels a sucking sensation, and his mouth falls open as a small noise escapes him, and his hips arch just the slightest bit, sending ripples out to all the fronds and stalks wrapped around his body. It sucks again, softer than silk. Jiang Cheng feels a little more of his qi flow out of his cock and away from him, pleasure pulsing up his body in its place. The lotus sucks at him again, leaving him weaker, and he moans, voice drifting across the dark water, heat on his cheeks from how much he's enjoying this or how horrible it would be to be caught like this because he couldn't keep his voice down. 

The lotus strokes its stamen along the head of his cock, and he tries to arch his hips, to drive into the lotus's furled mouth, but the stalks and drifting roots holding him keep him from doing either. The lotus pulls against his cock, and Jiang Cheng shivers, cock hard and leaking, as he feels more qi flow out of him like water. He feels something brush against his shoulder, hard and round like a bud that has yet to open, and he thinks about it pushing inside him, about opening his mouth for it and letting it gag him, and his qi flowing out of his cock into the waiting lotus, and how _good_ it feels as his strength slips away. 

Jiang Cheng trembles in the hold of the lotus stalks, spread out naked across the surface of the water, and the lotus drinks from him until it's full, until he comes into its waiting mouth, pleasure lapping his body like waves, and he's never felt so good or so ashamed in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from [this incredibly filthy ancient Chinese poem.](https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/tune-soaring-clouds)


End file.
